Heart Over Mind
by IsaacClarkeX
Summary: There's only one person that can make Sherlock Holmes put his heart over his mind. "Because what's worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?" Based on the older Sherlock Holmes TV series.


Holmes couldn't stand Watson being with Mary. He despised how he would cuddle with her on those cold nights at 221 B Baker St., where he would invite them over. One night he saw them sitting at the dinner table together talking about how they planned to have children in the future. Holmes hated the fact that they were happy together. He knew that one day Watson would leave him for Mary. That was a day he dreaded would come.

Watson knocked at the door as loud as he could.

"Holmes!" Watson shouted for the fortieth time.

But before Watson could shout again, the door swung open in an angry swoop. "You are late," Holmes stated.

"I didn't know you were expecting me so early. If so, I would have came here sooner," Watson replied.

Watson let himself in as he took off his hat and held it against his chest.

"Good morning, my dear Watson. How are you on this fine morning?" Holmes asked as he shut the door behind Watson. "I am doing most good, Holmes. Thank you for asking."

They both proceeded to sit next to the fireplace, where there was a love seat and an armchair.

"Now, what was it you needed of me, Holmes? It sounded important," Watson asked in a curious tone.

Watson stared at Holmes for an answer. Holmes stared back. Their sights on each other for what seemed like an eternity, before Holmes shifted his gaze to a painting in the distance.

"Nothing. I just wanted you at a close proximity," he boldly answered.

"Holmes, you know you could've just invited me over if you needed company."

Holmes got out of his seat and walked up to the counter, where a bottle of wine sat atop. He pulled out a glass and signaled to Watson if he wanted any, but Watson just shook his head "no." Holmes then filled a glass for himself. Holmes felt satisfied by those words. Knowing that Watson would answer his beckoning call, day or night. Holmes knew that Watson was unique and that he was the only one that could ever truly understand him. The first time Holmes met Watson he knew something was different, that finally he found something greater than solving cases. But, this he knew, was also his downfall, for if Watson ever left his side, he would be broken and once again… alone.

Holmes sat back down in his red armchair. Time went by quickly and before he knew it, thirty minutes had passed. And yet Watson had not finished his one-sided conversation about how the water Mrs. Hudson poured him had a touch of lemon. Holmes took out his morocco case and prepared the solution for use. Watson ceased talking for a moment to take a drink of his water that laid on the table in front of him. While raising the glass to his lips, his eyes wandered to where Holmes sat. He sat the cup back down.

"Holmes, you know as a doctor, I can't -" Holmes cut him off mid-sentence.

"Yes, you cannot condone this and you believe it to be dangerous and I should not take it for health reasons. I understand. But when has it ever stopped me before?" Holmes finished as he stuck the needle into his arm.

"Holmes, please, you don't have to do this. Whatever the reason for this behavior, I can help you. Just let me," Watson said as he placed a hand on Holmes's shoulder. _My dearest friend, if only you knew… _Holmes thought to himself. Watson shook him slightly. "I'll be right back. I'll have the messenger send a message to Mary that I will be staying here tonight,"

As Watson was about to leave for the door, Holmes pinched the end of Watson's sleeve and tugged it a little.

"Don't go…" he said.

Watson turned to face Holmes, eyes locked on each other's. Watson, with concern in his eyes, responded, "I worry about you so much, Holmes. Of course I'm staying."

Holmes smiled slightly.

"Did you know, Watson, I have always admired your loyalty?"

Holmes asked as his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Well, I don't know what to say to that. I guess, whether it be the cocaine or not talking, thank you," Watson replied as he gave a slight smile to Holmes.

Holmes chuckled and smiled back at Watson, saying, "…It's the truth."

Watson sat back down to his previous seating. Not a second later, Holmes jumped up from his seat in amazingly fast speed and sat next to Watson.

"No, I am being serious. But not only loyal, you are also most... compelling. I would have never thought that there was somebody so distinct. And I would have to say you are a mystery. Unlike any of the cases I have solved," Holmes said.

Watson raised a brow as he stared at Holmes. Holmes looked down at the track mark he made from injecting the needle into his arm.

"You put up a challenge. I sometimes think that with you around… I don't need any stimulate as a substitute to keep my mind racing." He looked back up at Watson.

"Maybe I should get you some water. Do you want some water?" Watson asked, worriedly.

"No. I am quite fine. But thank you for asking."

Watson just continued staring at Holmes, but Holmes looked away. "You know these feelings I have - this weakness I have for you - sometimes makes me feel like I must go through drastic measures to have you by my side, regardless of who I hurt in the process. I have never felt this way before, and I thought I never could." He continued, "And I have never told you this before because… I was afraid you would leave... and I would lose the one profound thing in my life that gave me meaning."

Watson replied in a calm tone. "Holmes, I'm your friend. You can tell me anything. Besides, I think you are a great friend that I cherish from the bottom of my heart, as well. See? There is no shame in speaking from your heart."

Holmes responded, "If that is true, then..." Holmes's words drift off into silence.

Holmes began to stare at Watson for a lengthy amount of time, only to break the silence with an embrace. Holding Watson close, Holmes plunged into a hard kiss. Both lips interlocked, Watson's face fell into an expression of surprise. One of Holmes's hands was placed behind Watson's head, as a brace to insure that he didn't shy away while the other hand was unbuttoning his waistcoat in an attempt to undress him. Tears rapidly fell down Holmes's cheeks as he sadly furrowed his brows, knowing that this embrace would not last forever; knowing that after this moment of selfish passion, he would have to explain his actions.

_I know how this will end… But how do I express these feelings? How do I respond to something so unfamiliar? How do I explain something I know will break this friendship apart? Do I leave you to your wife, knowing she is doing things to you I could only wish? Even if there were a way to reverse what I have just created between us, will I ever be able to live with myself? Before you, there was only me; me and my mind pacing back and forth. I tried to fill it with thoughts; thoughts of cases I have put off, cases that have intrigued me, cases that I didn't care about so I could fill as much room as I could to avoid the truth buried deep beneath it all... The truth that I was alone. That there was only me in this world of senselessness and absurdity. But that all changed when you came into my life… An angel, if I've ever seen one. You picked me up off that filth and carried me into a place I thought I could never enter, a place where I could feel… human. Why did you make me feel this way, knowing I would lose to a __**woman?**_

Holmes's thoughts were cut short when Watson broke the hold Holmes had over him, and gasped for breath as he asked in both confusion and in shock, "What are you doing, Holmes!?"

Holmes clinched his jaw as he looked away from Watson.

"The affection that I have shown you... I did not mean it. I apologize."

"No, I'm sorry… I know you aren't yourself right now… I'll get you some water."

Watson buttoned up his waistcoat as he spoke, then walked to the table where the alcohol sat. Lying atop was a pitcher half full of water. He poured Holmes a glass, and spoke as he handed it over to him, "Here. This should make you feel better."

Holmes grabbed the glass of water and drank it immediately after he received it.

As he was drinking, Holmes could see Watson fiddling with his ring.

Just by looking at his face, Holmes knew what Watson was thinking about. He always did. He knew Watson was thinking about how much he wanted to leave; how awkward it was getting; how he wished he could just go home and be with his wife. Always that damn wife. Sherlock also knew that by tomorrow all of his "odd" behavior would be chalked up to the cocaine he took prior to it all.

"I want to be alone, Watson. Leave." Holmes boldly stated as he laid down on his love seat, staring at the ceiling, all the while pointing at the door to signal Watson to leave.

"Oh. Of course… But please just remember to not take another dose of that stuff. Like I said before, it is not good for you."

And with that, Watson left the building, holding his hat.

Holmes's gaze remained stuck to the ceiling. With each step, Watson departed further away from Holmes. And with every thought, a tear ran down Holmes's cheeks.

_I know what will happen next. You will wave to signal a cab, go home, hold your wife in your arms; reassure her that you will be there no matter what, and until death do us part. Then you will wake up beside her and kiss her forehead. She will love you and you her. And in all this, I will stand from afar observing it. With each caress, each soft kiss, I will crack. Then you will return to me when I call out to you, and I will shatter from being crushed by this knowledge every time I see your face. But I will be unable to stop my own destruction. Because in the end, if this is the only way I can have you…_

…_then so be it._

_**THE END**_

Songs I listened to while writing this:

My father's son by Joe Cocker.

Cold by Crossfade.


End file.
